


Torture to those who have it coming

by Makarona



Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Basement, Dark Will, F/M, Reader Insert, Revenge, Torture, Violence, vengeance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-16
Updated: 2017-01-16
Packaged: 2018-09-18 00:26:17
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,674
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9354224
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Makarona/pseuds/Makarona
Summary: The reader is a famous person who knows Will lightly through social media, ignores him as a bet with a friend. Which leads to this unfortunate turn of events to envelop.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Originally wrote it with other characters for a friend then adapted it for my newly found obsession - Hannibal fandom. Tried experimenting with Dark Will's character as he is a fascinating mind capable of strong feelings and acting upon them.

It was a regular day, no different from any other. Except, in a way, it wasn’t. Not that Y/N knew that yet. She did not anticipate anything happening to her, not in reality, maybe in her dreams or thoughts, but never surpassing the barrier of dreamland. The surprise was still waiting to present itself. Wrapped in ribbon, with a bow on top. People often think of fate or consequences of their actions. Although not expecting judgement day to come, sometimes the anxiety and anticipation is there, lurking in the shadows, whispering, haunting. Now some people believe in karma, natural balance of things, but very often those actions denoting retribution are done by other people on their own will. Which isn’t necessarily a bad thing per se, only that laws and human morality denies the pleasure of punishing those who wrong us.

No matter of the size of the act that feels like betrayal, the emotion’s intensity matters most and it is the most common initiator of action for vengeance, violence. The mind gets blinded with hate, needing something, anything to fill that void. Especially in the face of someone ignoring you, and when you know it is done on purpose, by choice, it infuriates you. Makes your blood boil with hatred. All other feelings and emotions become meaningless and you are left with the only decision at that moment. Act upon your instinct? Or keep it to yourself until it passes. But it never truly goes away, does it?

There was this man, William Graham. Still youthful and filled with energy. As of many of blooming adults, his emotions and importance of other people’s attention and acceptance were significant to him. It’s only natural for one to seek acknowledgment from those who seem to matter. In their own world, of course. But no matter what the reality might be, it hurts the same. The pain is the same, the influence… The exact same. Little does anyone know how much their actions can make people do certain things. How persuasive they can be without actually realizing it. And not to their own benefit, I’m afraid.

So there it was, a simple, ordinary day. Weather’s a bit dim, people are caught up in their own thoughts, having their own problems circling around, tightening their necks. And then there’s Y/N. Unsuspecting, living her life, having everything, as it seems, in its place. Life and career going smoothly, acceptance from people, appreciation from those who listen, truly listen to her work. It’s only natural to get lost in the comfort of our surroundings, not ever needing to think of ‘what ifs’. Playing life like it was given for granted. When in reality, every word, every little action sets off a butterfly effect.

Asleep for an afternoon nap, comfortable, unaware, unexpecting. That’s screen perfect moment to attack and assault someone, isn’t it? What’s more fun than seemingly set play? Setting a better one, perfect for the ideas and cravings fueled by pure anger. Quietly sneaking closer, being unnoticed, unheard, not alarming anyone. A sudden stab of a needle to the artery. A concoction to knock out a person… For a short period of time, that is. Possible struggle to drag the body, but with help? It’s easier. Careful to not be seen by anyone around, not causing suspicion. Taking the almost lifeless body to a specifically prepared space. A basement of torture of sorts. At least for this evening, for this occasion. Carefully decided details, equipment, tools. The person, still unsuspecting, strapped to the table, hands, feet cuffed, secured. Checked multiple times, no mistakes can be made. It wouldn’t be acceptable. There’s only one and single chance. The room has no windows, the walls are isolated from any sound leakage. Anything that happens inside, stays there. And whatever is happening outside the walls? Continues existing without any grasp of the nature of cruelty inside. If a photo was made of how this scene looked, one would think of a hospital, professionally prepared operation room, tools in place, sanitary, white and green. Except the surgery that is still to be done will not be of healing to the patient on the table. Rather, a divine intervention, saving the soul of the one taking action. Time was ticking away, the subject on the table started breathing quicker, out of sleep. Consciousness coming back. Eyes fluttering, trying hard to bring life to their owner. Mind still fuzzy, like after a nap that took too long, leaving us confused, uncertain where, when, or even, what are we.

Her eyes slowly coming back to functioning, taking in what’s around. And for the first time, the confusion is justified. Because nothing was recognisable. She had no fucking idea where she is or how she got there. When she noticed a familiar face. Still not able to put a name to it. Body aching, trapped. Fear flowing through her, blood rushing to her brain evoking fight-or-flight instinct. But no luck there, when you are strapped to a table, neither you can punch, nor run.

“Hello, Y/N.” A firm, calm voice echoed in the room.

Her eyes glued to the ones observing her, cold sweat drowning her body. Not sure if it would be a smart decision to initiate a conversation. Even if she tried, it felt like her tongue is stuck in her dry mouth. Possibly not able to emit a sound. She tried sitting up, getting off that table however he could. But there was no way. Hands above her head, feet… Securely tightened. Even her neck had its own belt holding her down. Should she scream for help? Unlikely such a well conducted environment meant a mind behind it would be stupid enough to make a grave error like allowing her yelps to reach anybody.

“Well well well… Feeling uncomfortable? Don’t worry… much.” A sinister tone in his voice, a tool of some sort in his hands. “I understand your state of confusion, fear of what’s to come. Be sure, nothing you imagine is as bad as what my mind can think of.” His eyes burning with emotion, confident posture, slowly walking towards her.

“Tell me, what are you most afraid of, Y/N?” He shifts his gaze to the ceiling, trying to imagine possible ways to induce terror to this girl in front of him. Never actually taking his attention away from her. That would be inconsiderate to deny her of his full focus.

“Not feeling like talking? Oh, wait, how rude of me.” He chuckles lowly. “My name is Will. Rings a bell? Or do you need reminding?” A slight smirk playing on his face. A scalpel in his grasp being lightly tapped onto the other hand.

Her eyes widen, still not certain who is she dealing with… when it hit her. It’s him. Y/N never thinks much when talking to people, heck, she has lots of friends and acquaintances. Some very close and dear to her, some less. A couple are for fun. Many many she ignores. Natural, being famous and well-known comes with a price of a certain amount of attention seeking fans and admirers. But he was different. It didn’t mean much, at first, she randomly picked people to talk to, converse over stuff that seemed intriguing. There were less to choose from anyway. And there he was, having stuff in common, being casual, chatting. Throughout years, he never stopped. Not that she would complain about it. No. But people are peculiar creatures. They get bored, they think of ways to make anything a game. What was there to lose? A virtual relation with someone? A small price to pay for experimenting with people. Until you mess with the wrong ones. It was merely a bet with her band mate. To keep checking, looking at everything he provided. To see how long would this man put effort to reach out, connect, talk. Well, everything has a price tag. Sometimes, even your own head might be served on a plate.

“It’s you.” That’s all her hoarse voice could manage to get out. Eyes flickering, mind trying to find a plan, any plan. Nothing. Empty.

A quiet laugh fills the room. “Nice to meet you too. It all could’ve been in better circumstances, but… you know, it pretty much is all on you, for what this had to come to.” His eyes rolled. “Okay, yeaah, maaaybe I could’ve spared the theatrical entrance and, well, all this.” He beckons around the room. “But you have to admit, it’s at the very least cool and freaking WORTH IT.” His last words loud, screeching, full of hurt.

Someone is rummaging in close perimeter. Someone else is in the room? How worse can this get. Y/N’s eyes wander around the room until she notices a small camera. Great. This will be recorded and kept. Though maybe it could become evidence after it’s done. Leverage to… Then a dark thought coursed through her brain. Is she getting out of this alive?

Will’s actions were swift, and well prepared. A knife exchanged the place of the scalpel in his hands. He moved quickly, the fabric covering her chest, abdomen… cut right in the middle. There’s no need to cover that flesh anymore. Not in here. After it was all shredded off, the knife dug into the skin of her neck, not stabbing, not even cutting, only held against the sweaty skin. The horror in her eyes was already paying off the tortures she incited to him throughout the years of silence.

“Not so tough and cool anymore, huh?” A spark in William’s eyes made it uncertain whether he was enjoying the therapeutic action of seeking vengeance or he was loving the torture on its own. “We’re just getting started, so don’t faint on me, I need your opinion on this.”

The mysterious someone in the room brought syringes full of different kinds of liquids. That person was wearing a mask and clear suit, careful to not leave any evidence of their presence here. “They’re all different, you won’t know their effect or what they are until you inject her with any of them. My personal concoctions of terror, if you may.” There was no need to see the face, the sly smirk could be heard in the voice.

“Wonderful.” That’s all Will had to say. And all Y/N was thinking was how did something so seemingly innocent and insignificant bring her to this nightmare.

He took away the knife from her hyperventilating body. Set it aside for now. “Eenie meenie miny moe… Ah, the blue one it is.” He took the syringe, carefully letting the air bubbles out.

His soft hand caressed her arm, tightly grabbing just below the wrist. The vein was very visible which only made the process easier. The needle was soon under Y/N's skin, pushing the burning liquid in her bloodstream. A growling scream echoed.

“So this one was the instant pain one, nice.” A proud face staring down to the girl. “Now you should be extremely sensitive to any touch, nib, or squeeze.”

With those words Will leaned down to peck her cheek, almost giving the feel of a gangster's kiss before the execution of the receiver. Or Judas’ deathly smooch. Without more foreplay he turns around to grab a soft material. Of all the choices, why something fluffy and sweet?

Y/N did not realise she did not have her clothes on anymore apart from her underwear. Will’s hands slowly lowered the cloth closer to the girl’s body. The slight touch, caressing her skin made her squirm and whine. “I told you anything will hurt. Imagine that was a knife cutting you.”

His right hand was suddenly placed around her neck. She suddenly was very aware of the nails digging into her skin. After tightening his grasp he let go and dragged his claws down along the middle causing the skin to redden and stay marked. A scream muffled by his other hand stuffing her mouth with that same cloth from before.

“This is getting a bit boring, pick a colour?” He lift up couple of syringes smiling like giving a child a choice of candies. Y/N's eyes nervously shift, a neon colour catching her gaze.

“Oh don’t worry, darling, it’s not radioactive, my friend just loves a touch of drama, I mean, not that I don’t, obviously, considering everything that you see around you.” His dark giggles send shivers down her spine. “But if you insist, we’ll try this one.”

In a blink of an eye he stabs the enormous needle right to her heart, not only setting the effect of the liquid, but also striking a shock-like reaction from the puncture alone. If she wasn’t strapped to the table, her seizure might’ve made her fall and crack her skull. Nevertheless, the fun shall carry on.

He slapped her face several times getting her mind back to her body. “Stay awake, baby, wouldn’t want you missing out.” A soft caring voice spoke coupled with a dark evil pair of eyes staring deep into her soul.

Y/N's body was uncontrollably shaking, it felt like the temperature suddenly fell tens of degrees below freezing. All she wanted was to curl up into a ball, find solace in her own embrace, get warmth. But that wasn’t an option she had.

William was busy at her tool station, picking and choosing with what to play next. It might be time for operation. He gave her anesthetics. “You will need this not to feel anything if I want you to not lose your consciousness from the agonizing pain.”

The next thing she saw was that same scalpel. She felt it gently touching her skin until she felt nothing anymore. She saw blood. Was it hers? Stupid question, who else’s could it have been? It must be hers. But she didn’t feel any pain. Her head a bit woozy, but she was fighting hard to not faint. Will unbelted Y/N’s neck for her to see what was being done to her body. Y/N lift up her head curious to know how many cuts he made. Her face froze. It wasn’t just cuts. Her abdomen was opened. Her insides presented to the outside world.

“Now let me see if you are truly missing one organ. It should have told you that what you were doing, or, well, more like not doing, was wrong. Do you have your heart, Y/N? Because I am already certain your brain doesn’t function as it should, because you didn’t realise how stupid your actions had been.” His hand reached in, maneuvering inside, feeling the warm working mechanism of the body. Soon enough he touched the rhythmical beating motor. The pace was increasing. At first, his touch was soft and mindful. Then the grasp was firm and there was a satisfaction written all over Will’s face.

“What a surprise, I found it, then, you should know now, what I want as a gift from you. It won’t cost you anything. Easy.”

Y/N’s breathing was erratic, her body being exposed was ready to shut down, she could hear her heartbeat ringing loudly in her ears. Two more seconds and she’s out cold. System’s shutdown. Darkness overtakes.

A sudden hitch of breath. A sting of mind, wakening like from a nightmare. Eyes open widely, mouth dry and sore. Y/N shivers hugging herself and rubbing her arms to regain warmth.

“It was all a dream, just a dream, calm down, Y/N…” She tries to lull herself.

Then an excruciating pain runs down the middle of her body. She curls up whining, almost crying for help. She lifts up her shirt to find stiches.

“Oh.my.fucking.god.” Her face left with horror, making her wish nothing more but a nightmare instead of the hellish reality she has to continue living with.

A lesson was taught, every action requires a reaction and no one is safe from the consequences of one’s foolishness.


End file.
